


Fireworks

by Pappillon



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, New Years, a few bad words, like two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28643223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pappillon/pseuds/Pappillon
Summary: Convinced his brother is in a relationship with Jounouchi, Mokuba launches a plan to find out the truth.
Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto, Kaijou - Relationship, Violet Shipping - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cookiejuice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookiejuice/gifts).



> Hey y'all. I have to apologize because I wanted to have this posted by January first for New Year's Day, but then I caught covid and wasn't able to edit this properly until more recently. Also, this story was part of a secret Santa for Cookiejuice! I'm so sorry I made you wait so long, my dear! Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy it!

Mokuba was on the verge of asking Seto an inappropriate question. His brother had behaved oddly as of late; a Christmas gift he had wrapped in paper shiny enough to reflect his fingerprints rapidly sent away and never spoken of. The hushed phone calls wafting beneath his office door, his voice too deep not to hear, but gentle, escaping like a breath of perfume. Mokuba swore he heard laughter, once. 

He had even caught Seto from the top of the staircase as he sat upon the couch, browsing through photos on his phone. It was hard to tell from that distance, but so many seemed to feature a certain blond man in a variety of poses, a pop of potentially nude limbs, but maybe not; close-ups of someone’s face, definitely. Mokuba was staring so hard, he waited for the moment his brother felt his curiosity, but he never turned. He kept scrolling through his camera roll, grinning to himself, pausing, fixating. Mokuba had felt guilty and gone back to his room. He had wanted to ask Seto something, but interrupting at that moment would only make him wonder what Mokuba had seen. 

Mokuba tried to devise a way to ask, but destroyed all potential questions before they made it to fruition—a shredded pile of blueprints in his wastepaper basket. They had played this game before. Straightforward questions like, “Why are you looking at your phone so often?” or even the extremely bold, “So, are you seeing anyone?” would get him nowhere. Seto would look perplexed, as if to say,  _ what did I do to make you ask that? _ then fidget with something—loop his fork around a tangle of linguine, or sip suspiciously at his glass of wine. He would absorb the question and answer without blinking a single blue eye— _ I’m not looking at my phone any more than usual _ , or,  _ if I were seeing someone, wouldn’t you know? _

_ Goddamnit _ , Mokuba would think. If he insisted, Seto would ask for proof.  _ Do you have irrefutable evidence? Have you prepared any graphs that suggest I’m looking at my phone more than usual? Any spreadsheets? _ The old I’m-not-looking-at-my-phone-more-often, you’re-just-looking-at-me-looking-at-my-phone-more-often trick. Or the even more incriminating  _ Who am I seeing, then? _ which never had a good answer. Don’t try it. Seto covered his ass well enough for some level of plausible deniability, and the sheer offense,  _ the audacity _ , if Mokuba were to say: 

I think you’re seeing Jounouchi Katsuya. 

He had suffered the consequences of such bold assertions during his teenage years. The narrowed eyes, crinkled nose, the brief silent treatment. But he was a college man now with a fully functional smartphone. He had other means. 

He sent a private message to Yamada Shizuka on MyFace, formerly Kawai Shizuka, formerly Jounouchi Shizuka. Her wall held a few pictures of her, and a few pictures of her husband—a kind looking man with dark brown eyes—and a few pictures of Katsuya. They appeared next to each other, out to lunch, snapping selfies. 

Mokuba sent her a private message, asking to talk. 

Shizuka answered back, agreeing. She suggested a time, and he accepted it—a Friday night when Seto would be ensnared by business at the office, or perhaps “business” at the “office.”

On that Friday, Mokuba occupied his room. Even with no one else around, it seemed too big and echoey. He sat on the floor, against the far side of his bed, and counted down the minutes. His screen would switch in and out of consciousness as it burned away the seconds. 

Shizuka called at seven o’ clock on the dot. 

“Hello?” 

“Mokuba?” 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He touched the back of his head, as if they were talking in person. “It’s been a while. How are you doing?” 

“I’ve been great.” Silence. The background of Shizuka’s call was just as quiet as Mokuba’s room. Maybe she too was alone against her bed, on the floor. “Sorry,” she laughed. “I’m not sure what to say. You sound so grown up now. Maybe I’ll just ask what you wanted to talk about.”

“Well, I actually wanted to talk about our brothers.” 

“Oh,” Shizuka said. 

“There’s not an easy way to say this, but I think they might be dating?” 

“Well,” she spoke softly into the receiver. “I’m not sure that it’s my business to comment on that.” 

“Then...are they?” 

There was the sound of a teapot howling. Mokuba may have imagined it. 

“I mean, if they weren’t dating, you could just say so, right?” 

“Um.” 

“I think it would be easy to say that they weren’t. You could even act kind of surprised. Like, ‘ _ Mokuba, how could you say such a thing? _ Are you insinuating that my brother is  _ gay? _ ’ But you didn’t.” 

“ _ Um. _ ” 

“Can you deny it, Shizuka-san?” 

“I—” she sighed. “I can’t. According to Katsuya...they’re dating.” 

“ _ I knew it _ ,” Mokuba said. He leaned further into the side of his bed, as if letting go of something. “It must be nice to have a brother who tells you things.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. From what I’ve heard, Kaiba-san is a little shy about their relationship. I’m sure he’ll come around if you give him time.” 

“That was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.” Mokuba could hear the ice bearing into the windows outside. The wind whistled by. “I just want Seto to know that I’ll accept him no matter who he’s dating. Maybe if we could arrange an accidental meet-up for New Year and all spend time together...but I understand if you and your family already have plans.” 

“No, not at all. I think that sounds like a great idea. What did you have in mind?” 

“Okay, so here’s what I was thinking.” 

***

Mokuba had convinced Seto to watch the New Year’s fireworks with him, put on every year by Domino City. At midnight they would launch them into the sky, creating colorful showers of glamorous light. Seto kept asking why Mokuba wanted to go so badly; they had a nice evening planned at home, he had said, clacking away behind his computer monitor. 

Mokuba could have lied. Something about having gone there when they were younger, nostalgia, a better view of the fireworks. Instead, he inhaled, and ten seconds into his drawn-out  _ pleeeaaaase? _ Seto finally relented. 

So on December 31st, at 11 p.m., both Kaiba brothers, dressed handsomely in white-silver New Year’s kimono, loaded into the backseat of the car. In the icy-black window, Seto’s reflection appeared via the cold blue light of his cellphone. His thumbs rapid-fired replies, lopsided in the window. Mokuba didn’t ask who he was texting. 

“Thanks for agreeing to go with me, Seto.” 

“I guess,” he started, extinguishing the light of his cellphone. His face disappeared into the darkness. “After a while, it sounded fun. I just hope we don’t run into anyone we know.” 

Mokuba laughed, too hard. “ _ Yeah _ , god!  _ It’s always really awkward when that happens! _ ” 

Seto raised his eyebrows, went back to texting. Mokuba broke into a cold sweat. 

Their driver dropped them off at the bottom of the hill, where people were already gathering. So many of them too were dressed in kimono, covered by winter coats, or entire families insulated to the teeth in snow boots and bluejeans. All of them chattered excitedly. Entire groups holding mittened hands disappeared into the nearby temple before coming back out to begin climbing the hill, whose trees each wore lacy scarves of snow. The moon high overhead made the forest sparkle. 

Seto breathed out. His warm air took on a physical shape. “It’s almost midnight,” he said. “We should go up.” 

Mokuba agreed, and they began their ascent as their driver pulled away. 

***

The Kaiba brothers’ long legs shortened their journey to the top, with Mokuba commenting on the fact that he could finally keep up. Seto had looked back with his old, cocky grin, started accelerating until they both reached the apex, slightly out of breath. 

It wasn’t the tallest mountain bordering Domino, but it was large enough to grant a view of the city’s skyline. As on every other day of the year, the buildings broadcast a flashy show of neon colors that leeched light from the stars, but the sky that night was vast and dark. Only a few clouds straggled in the distance. Maybe they had also stopped to watch. 

Mokuba’s phone informed him it was 11:53, and that he had a message from Shizuka. 

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” Mokuba said. 

Seto turned incredulously. “Don’t be too long. You’re the one who wanted to come here.” 

“I know. I’ll be quick, I promise!” 

Mokuba did not go to the bathroom. He stood outside it, against the wall beneath a hazy amber light, and called Shizuka. He told her where they were, asked her where she was. Her response was something between a sigh and a gasp. “ _ I’ve lost Katsuya. _ We’ve been here for about half an hour and he wanted to go look at something, and then—” There was interference. She must have been walking through a crowd. “I promise I’ll find him.” 

“Alright. Even if you find us after the show starts, that would be okay.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Good luck.” 

Mokuba placed his phone in his pocket and made his way back, sighing visibly. He warmed his hands in the sleeves of his kimono. A nearby clock with a glowing face reported it was almost midnight, about 11:57. 

He made his way back to where he had left Seto, but stopped before his brother noticed him coming. Silhouetted by the light of the moon was Seto’s slender frame with another man next to him. He had his hands in his pockets, and every couple of seconds, leaned over to knock their elbows together. His body shook with laughter as he threw his head back, ruffling his unruly bangs. Seto didn’t seem to laugh along, but he didn’t stop their bodies from colliding either; he didn’t force him to leave. 

When Mokuba approached, the other man turned to look at him, big brown eyes and disastrous blond hair—none other than Jounouchi. 

“There he is!” he shouted and immediately trapped Mokuba in a powerful hug. “It’s been forever!  _ How have you been? _ ” 

Both of them were laughing as Jounouchi nearly lifted him out of the snow, aggressively voicing his observations— _ You’re so tall now! _ —and how Seto had told him all about Mokuba’s recent entry into college.  _ He’s so proud of you, he talks about it all the time _ . 

Jounouchi, perhaps in an unintentional slip, used Seto’s first name. Maybe he had assumed Mokuba already knew. By then, Seto had placed his hands into his jacket pockets, his face a shade pinker than when Mokuba had left him, something he would surely blame on the cold. 

Shizuka approached holding her husband’s hand moments before the show started. She appeared slightly winded and mostly relieved, and the five of them stood together as December ticked toward its conclusion and January began with a glittery explosion. 

***

Seto and Mokuba returned home inside a furtive silence. Mokuba asked him if he had enjoyed the show. “Yes,” Seto had said. “Thanks for suggesting it.” That was all. He had also stopped using his phone so openly, no longer grinning at its screen. Maybe he reserved that for the closed doors of his office, where he no longer held hushed conversations. He didn’t need to hide his laughter. He didn’t laugh at all. 

Shizuka texted as early as the second.  _ Did it work out? _

_ I’m not sure yet _ , Mokuba responded.  _ I’ll let you know if anything happens. _

_ I’m sorry. Maybe I wasn’t friendly enough. _

_ That’s not it at all! He might just need more time. Thanks again for your help.  _

Then, Seto returned to work; Mokuba started a new semester. They had dinner together sometimes where Mokuba asked Seto about his day at the office and Seto asked Mokuba about his classes. Neither mentioned fireworks—literal or figurative. 

Then Mokuba came home one winter evening. His bag was full of his Thursday books and he arrived in the kitchen, smelling of the outdoors and cheerfully out of breath. Before entering, he found Seto at the table, pondering out the window into a pink-orange sky trying on a light purple. Seto didn’t notice him, absent-mindedly tapping at his extinguished phone screen. 

“Hey,” Mokuba said from the kitchen double-doors, as gently as possible. Seto still jumped. “Is everything alright? I wasn’t expecting you home so early.”

Seto exhaled from his nose, slowly. Serene on the surface as always, but what gave him away was how he locked his fingers together, how he broke eye contact. “I invited Katsuya for dinner this weekend. I came back to consider the menu.” 

“That sounds great.” Mokuba sat across from him. 

“Maybe you’re wondering why.” 

Mokuba waited as good-naturedly as possible. 

“We’re dating,” Seto said. “I didn’t want you to be surprised.” 

“Is that what you’ve been hiding?” Mokuba pushed him, getting him to grin. “Seriously, I’m happy for you. How long have you two been going out?” 

Seto answered, pulling up the occasional photo on his phone. “He encouraged me to tell you,” he said. “I’m not sure why I waited so long.” 


End file.
